Saturday, April 29, 2006

Two-thirds of Roman Catholic priests in England and Wales believe that the use of condoms could be acceptable.

This isn't good.

In a survey of clergy conducted by The Sunday Telegraph, 65 per cent of those questioned said that they thought it morally defensible to use condoms in order to curb the spread of HIV.

This is worse.

A further 43 per cent said that it was time for the Catholic Church to "rethink" its stance on contraception.

What's next? That we should "rethink" our stance on abortion? On murder?

How about stealing, adultery, lying...after all, each could be seen, albeit twistedly, as "morally defensible."

"I robbed a bank to fund an orphanage." "I killed some orphans to make room for some poorer orphans." "I slept with another guy to help the orphanage (he's rich). "Then I lied about it to save my marriage." And so on.

Sheesh.

This is good! This is hopeful!

Pro-life lady Gianna Beretta Molla was canonized just two years ago. Yesterday (April 28) was her memorial.

Ask her to intercede. Because her prayers — and yours and mine! — are needed.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

I can't imagine what South African Bishop Kevin Dowling must go through in ministering to a population rife with AIDS sufferers.

However, I also can't imagine where he's coming from with this statement regarding his notion of a change of the Church's teaching on the use of condoms. (Which are contraceptives. Which prevent conception. Which interfere with LIFE.)

"You should come up with a position which makes sense and which is in sync with the values we espouse, a nonjudgmental God and the infinite worth of a human being," Dowling said. "Moral injunctions do not help people. I think all this calls for a rethink and the acceptance of an authentic pro-life stance. The issue becomes: How do you protect life in this pandemic?"

:::::::waving hand wildly:::::::::

I know! How about...abstinence?

More on that in a sec.

My question is, where does Bishop Dowling get the idea that God is "nonjudgmental?" A seductive thought, but not true. At least, the last time I recited the Apostles' Creed — that would be today — I could swear I heard others, not just me, confess:

"He ascended into Heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again to judge the living and the dead."

Moral injunctions do not help people? Odd. I somehow thought the commandments handed down to us by God through Moses were moral injunctions designed by our Creator to...help people.

Oh yeah. About abstinence.

Bishop Dowling:

"Abstinence is fine as an ideal, but it does not work in all circumstances," he added. "We have to try a more holistic approach, a theology and possibility for people to encounter God right within their situation."

Fancy that. Abstinence doesn't work in all circumstances! The sheep shouldn't be called upon to lead the shepherd, but this lamb has a bit of news for the bishop:

Abstinence works just fine in preventing AIDS, aside from the non-sexual transmission of the virus, e.g., tainted blood transfusions. And in the latter case, I'm afraid a condom wouldn't do much good.

Please pray for those people and their families suffering from this hideous disease...and for no doubt well-intentioned but severely misguided bishops.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Wait. I don't mean what we — or at least I — consider grevious or mortal sin. I mean any sin.

Lemme explain, or at least try to.

Today, Exposition and the Divine Mercy Chaplet preceded Mass. Now, it'd been about a week since my last Confession, and, as far as I could remember, I hadn't done anything awful.

But as I began to lose myself in adoration, something I did today began niggling at me. I tried to shake it off, but nothing doing. God, evidently, wasn't having any. At the conclusion of the chaplet and Benediction, I realized I had about 25 minutes before Mass began. There were still a few priests waiting to hear confessions. Plenty of time, I decided, to confess my one, itty-bitty sin, pray the expected Hail Mary or two, and get a decent seat for Mass.

My confession lasted maybe 30 seconds, tops.

My penance? A Rosary.

The priest, without mincing words, told me to immediately pray the five Glorious Mysteries after making my Act of Contrition. Dazed, I walked into the Blessed Sacrament chapel and began to pray.

An amazing thing happened as I ended the first decade and began the second.

While contemplating the Ascension of Jesus, the sorrow for my sin began to build. I threw myself upon His mercy, and that of the Holy Spirit as I began the third mystery. As I reflected on the Assumption and Queenship of Our Lady, I found myself begging for her intercession...and begging the Triune God for the grace to never commit that sin again.

By the time I'd finished my penance, I knew I was forgiven. I also knew that God had changed me...that He'd shown me that what I'd considered a "minor infraction" wasn't minor at all. It was a sin.

And sin is deadly.

God's love is everlasting. His mercy endures forever. But — as Bishop Allue reminded us in his sermon — the judgment of Jesus is just.

Do you think the unexpected penance had anything to do with this revelation?

I do. Oh, I know that I'd have been forgiven for my sin no matter how small my penance had been. But I somehow don't think my sorrow would have been as profound...nor do I think I would have begged so fervently for the grace to renounce that particular sin. (Which I realize now is — please God, had been — a fairly habitual one.)

"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is Good"

And His Love is everlasting. Once again He proved this to me today...by reminding me of something important Saint John, inspired by the Holy Spirit, wrote in today's second reading:

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Jeff Miller's blog, the Curt Jester, reached a million hits yesterday. A one-time atheist, Jeff embraced Catholicism big time and was received into the Church on Easter, 1999. His conversion story, "The Soul Is Not Just Metaphysical Idea," is well worth the read. As are his everyday musings and observations.

Friday, April 21, 2006

The conversation, which was initiated by the archdiocese in an effort to improve communications with the general public through the news media, marked the first time a Catholic archbishop has visited the Globe since 1997. O'Malley said he saw such outreach as part of his job as archbishop of Boston, a post he has held since the summer of 2003.

''I think that a newspaper has a very special responsibility and an opportunity to help build community and to bring people together, to inform them, mostly to encourage positive initiatives," O'Malley said. ''And so, we do want to be in communication with the Globe and the rest of the Boston media."

I wonder when the Boston Herald gets its chance.

"It is challenging [said the Cardinal] to teach in this environment, but this is a very important environment for the church to be involved in teaching in. Here we have so many intellectual centers, this is the Athens of the West, and they say that St. Paul's most eloquent sermon was given in Athens and it's the one that had the least impact," he said, chuckling.

I wish I felt like laughing.

I wish, really, I knew what to make of this performance. I read the transcript, several times, and still don't quite get it. That, I'm more than ready to admit, has more to do with my ignorance than anything else. Feel free to comment...here's the transcript.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Just before the 4:45 Mass at Saint Francis Chapel, I noticed that the (very tall) Easter candle hadn't been lit. Realizing that the only priest on the premises — and, no doubt, the celebrant — was a very young-but-elderly priest (you know what I mean), I murmured to a friend that somebody should light the Paschal Candle for him.

Quick as a wink, my friend scurried up toward the candle and grabbed that thing that's a combination of snuffer and lighter (what's that thing called, anyway?), just as the priest entered the sanctuary.

After discovering that the...thing, after several failed attempts to light the candle, indeed, did not work, priest and friend decided (rather sensibly, in my opinion) to remove the candle from its holder, thereby eliminating the need for the whatever it is.

(I'm not kidding...what do you call that thing that lights tall candles and, when turned around, extinguishes them?)

Problem. The candle was stuck fast in the holder.

By this time, were I in charge, I would've frankly skipped the Paschal Candle lighting altogether. But priest, friend, and a fellow worshipper were of a different mind.

"Lower the candle!"

Somebody in the congregation suggested this, and it worked. Priest and friend gently grabbed the candle holder and lowered it about 90 degrees. From that vantage point, it was relatively easy to light the candle, and then carefully return it to its original position.

(A nearly ecstatic sigh wafted from the congregation at this point.)

And so, Mass was to begin.

As is customary, the priest, after making the Sign of the Cross, announced the intention for today's Mass.

"This Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is offered for..."

And, incredibly, I heard MY NAME!!!

Not just "Kelly Clark," but my whole name ("Kelly Clark" is just two thirds of my real name...this announcement contained the whole thing!)

I was stunned! Somebody — and I have no idea who – took the trouble to give me the most precious gift...a Mass offered for ME!

I'm still stunned. And grateful beyond words.

Long, long, time ago, Cardinal Law told me that a Mass offered for someone is "a gift beyond price." Since then, I've been delighted to arrange for Masses to be celebrated for people as gifts.

But heck, I always send a card notifying the recipient! (I'm nothing if not an eager-to-receive-thanks sort.)

This gift came as a complete surprise and, although the giver is unknown, believe me...he or she is the recipient of my prayers. I don't know if this is theologically possible or not — I'm just a lady in the pew — but I offered my Mass today to the one who arranged the Sacrifice to be offered for me. (Does this make any sense to you at all? It does to me.)

With God, all things are possible.

So I'm asking you. In your prayers, would you ask God to remember that person who arranged for a Mass to be said for me? He'll know who you're talking about.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Okay, so yesterday I was annoyed as bleep. But I think I've got a good idea out of the whole thing. Especially realizing I'm never going to win most folks, including pastors, over to the "Extraordinary-Ministers-of-Holy-Communion-Should-Be-An Extraordinary Sight" point of view.

While visiting someone at the hospital yesterday, I met a woman...

Her son was hospitalized with a brain tumor. She — at 80 years old — had flown to Boston from South Dakota to be with her son, along with her husband who is suffering from cancer. The couple are staying at their son's apartment, which is near the hospital. She attends Mass at her son's parish.

She explained that while she was grateful that her hospitalized son was able to receive Communion (from the overworked folks in the chaplaincy), she'd been trying, vainly, to have the Sacrament brought to her invalid husband on Sundays. (Did I mention he has cancer?)

The priest was too busy...

Which she — and I — understood. But when I asked her if she'd considered approaching any of the lay people who distributed Communion at Sunday Mass, the lady looked rather sad.

"They're all too busy, too."

Probing further — is it just me or are South Dakota folk a taciturn lot? — I finally ascertained that the parish where she attended Sunday Mass boasted at least eight lay distributors of Holy Communion. At least eight! And all of them were "too busy" to travel a half block or so to bring the Blessed Sacrament to a sick man?

I think not. So here's my suggestion.

In addition to (dare I say in repayment for?) the gratitude many parish priests tend to vocally express to our "wonderful ministers of Holy Communion" at the end of Mass, I propose that these folks be given the names of those people in the parish who are unable to attend Mass, and to be charged with the responsibility of bringing the Sacrament to them. It would be a privilege for them!

I know that some parishes already do this.

My proposal is that all parishes who insist on utilizing lay people to supplement (notice I didn't write "supplant") ordinary ministers of Holy Communion (that would be priests and deacons) do it. Quietly. With no fanfare. And no gratitude expressed, save for that of the communicant...and of Jesus.

"Take away the Pope and the Catholic Church would no longer be catholic. Moreover, without the supreme, effective and authoritative pastoral office of Peter the unity of Christ's Church would collapse. It would be vain to look for other principles of unity in place of the true one established by Christ Himself...We would add that this cardinal principle of holy Church is not a supremacy of spiritual pride and a desire to dominate mankind, but a primacy of service, ministration and love. It is no vapid rhetoric which confers on Christ's vicar the title `Servant of the servants of God.'"

Pope Paul VI, "Ecclesiam Suam"

The above, to me, quite aptly applies to the papacy of our Holy Father, Benedict XVI.

It's been a year! Do you remember what you were doing when the shout "Habemus Papam!" rang out?

Monday, April 17, 2006

Maybe it was began yesterday, when I prayed for the third day's intention of the Divine Mercy Novena: "For all devout and faithful souls." It seemed to me that the prayer was meant to be for — well, for those who were praying the Novena!

"Receive us into the abode of Your Most Compassionate Heart and never let us escape from It." [my emphasis]

"Us?" What's with this "us?" I'm not holy nor am I "devout." I try to be faithful, but too often I fail utterly. Anyway, today I realized — and accepted — a somewhat hard to swallow fact.

Every person I know is holier than I am.

Today, after the Rosary which we pray after Mass, a man approached me (please pray for him...and thank God too, because he was brought into full Communion with the Church this Easter!) and said the most astonishing thing:

"You pray with such holiness."

Let me explain.

The way we pray the Rosary is this: five different people, and they vary, lead each decade. The man who coordinates the whole thing opens the Rosary, and, after the fifth decade, leads everybody in the "Hail Holy Queen" and "Saint Michael" prayers. My job — when I'm there — is to start the closing prayers, and to pray for the intentions of the Holy Father, the Archdiocese of Boston, and the Cardinal Archbishop. That's it.

The man's comments made me squirm.

I know that they were well meant, but I felt like a fraud. Holy? Balderdash. This man — no doubt because he's a holy guy — mistakenly assumed that the fact that I've got a reasonably pleasant voice (and know all the words) somehow implied piety.

Nothing could be further from the truth!

Everybody I know — and this certainly includes those who aren't Catholic, those who are Catholic but don't practice the Faith, those people who, for reasons of their own, dislike me intensely, and many atheists — is a holier person than I am.

And you know...that's why I hang out with them!

Tennis, anyone?

I'm miserable at the game, myself, but friends who are good all advise the same thing: if you want to improve your game, always play with people who are better at it that you are.

I realized tonight that the fact that I'm the least holy person I know isn't an altogether bad thing.

Oh, it's bad that I'm not holy, of course.

But at least I play, and live, with those who are far better at this holiness business than I am.

And because of that — and, of course, because of the help of the Risen Christ — there's hope for me yet!

Thursday, April 13, 2006

I watched, again, the film "Fishers of Men," appropriately enough today, the anniversary of the first ordination...the first Eucharist.

Once again, I was astounded and moved by this salute to one of the most precious of all God's gifts — that of the priesthood. Only seventeen and a half minutes long, the impression it makes is timeless.

No spoilers, but some quotes:

"It's the priest who brings the soul home to God."

"It's not natural to be a priest. It's supernatural!"

"Every priest gives his priesthood — and his victimhood — to the Blessed Mother."

"You have to be a real man to become a priest."

The message is clear. The message must get out.

But how? So many of us are in parish situations that have become so feminized that even a powerful tool like "Fishers of Men" seems destined to remain in its DVD case. Who should see this film, experience this film?

The producer offered an idea:

"Show it to any priest you can."

He continued: "It is our hope and objective that it will renew his priesthood, as well as motivate other young men to consider the call."

Just a reminder...please plan to begin the Divine Mercy Novena tomorrow. The Novena begins on Good Friday and ends on Divine Mercy Sunday (the Sunday after Easter).

Each day, petitioners bring to the Lord different souls. Tomorrow, for example, we pray for "all mankind, especially sinners." (This particular intention shows that I have a vested interest in folks participating in the Novena!)

See this site for the Novena prayers...it also contains a link to the Divine Mercy Chaplet which is prayed in conjunction with the Novena.

I know lots of people who don’t go to confession at their home parish. For some, it’s because the times are inconvenient, but for many it’s because they don’t want Father to know their sins. As fewer and fewer people go to confession, it’s easier for the priests to recognize the individuals, I think.

Me, I prefer if possible to confess to a priest who knows me...for a number of reasons. Number One being, my confessors, simply because they know me, can, I believe, discern the relative seriousness of my sins. Too, they can offer (I think, anyway) pertinent guidance in avoiding occasions of sin, along with the best part, absolution.

The fact that any given priest knows me — is perhaps even a friend of sorts — has never bothered me. I truly believe that he (whoever he is) sees me as a soul to be saved, not Kelly Clark Who Commits Such Sins Sheesh.

As we're in the midst of Holy Week, when confessions (please God) increase, I think this is an interesting topic. So I'm wondering...would you rather confess your sins to Jesus via a priest who knows you or doesn't? Or does it matter?

Hey, as long as I've got you here, please know that you are in my prayers for a blessed Holy Week and a spectacular Easter.

Monday, April 10, 2006

I'm extraordinarily blessed with the opportunity to spend time adoring Jesus in the exposed Sacrament during the week at Saint Francis Chapel, Boston. Exposition begins following the 12:45 PM Mass, and continues until Benediction at 4:30, just prior to the 4:45 PM Mass.

Upon entering the chapel, I genuflect, kneel in a pew and pray until the priest comes out for the Benediction rites.

Today I'm afraid my eyes wandered...

And — as in the past — I was struck by the beautiful way many worshippers greeted the Exposed Sacrament. They kneel — not just genuflect — and bow for a few seconds before rising and slipping into their pews.

Which do you do...genuflect or kneel? The question really intrigues me.

Friday, April 07, 2006

Funny how just yesterday I blogged on "secular humanism" and called it an oxymoron.

On that note — the moronic one — I give you:

::::::::::drum roll ::::::::::::::

Voice of the Faithful(tm) and its amazingly dumb"Palm Sunday Vigil for Accountability."

We start, of course, by denying the Divinity of Christ. And put a woman in charge.

"Through dialogue, a foreign woman, moves Christ to change his mind. Her faith opens his heart and mind. Because of her, Christ sees his mission in entirely new terms."

Not content with Sunday's readings, the group takes a truly wonderful piece of the Gospel of Matthew (15:27)...and totally misconstrues it.

Distorting the message further with a bit of character analysis, we proceed.

The Canaanite Women…faithful, persistent, not one of the chosen.Jesus…open to change Disciples…protective of Jesus, why?

Then we do our best to totally mangle Salvation History.

Early on in Matthew's [sic] Jesus sees his mission to the Jews alone. But the woman persists and her arguments about the crumbs of Jesus' teaching that have fed her, change Jesus's [sic] outlook.

Who's the hero in this peversion?

Certainly not Jesus. He's "open to change," ostensibly by the persistence of The Woman. They took an incredibly beautiful part of God's Divine Word, for Heaven's sake, and tried to portray Jesus as a girly-guy!

Certainly not the evil, "protective disciples."

Ah...the heroines (modestly) reveal themselves:

VOTF must act out of our combined faithfulness. Then conversion can occur. When we come up against those who will not dialogue, are surrounded by protective disciples, think of the Canaanite woman. Persistence in faith. In this passage, Jesus is revealed as open to change, and being greatly affected by faithfulness.

Listen, o' "Faithful Ones."

1.) Jesus Christ is God. He is not "subject to change."

2.) From Genesis (that's the first Book in the Bible...you really outta check it out sometime) on, it is clear that the Messiah (that would be Jesus) was always to be the Savior of all nations...not just the Jews.

3.) Kindly stop trying to rewrite Salvation History...or at least wait until you've read about it to give it a go!

If you think I'm making this all up, I don't blame you. Here's the source.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

"Secular humanism," as you know, is the philosophy that advocates human, rather than religious values.

Leaving that (in my opinion) oxymoronic definition aside, let's look at both today's Gospel (John 8:51-59) and the often held secular humanistic view that Jesus, (if He even existed) was, while certainly not divine, certainly was, for want of a better description, "a good guy."

After all, He (sorry, "he") was all for loving your neighbor, clothing the naked, feeding the poor, healing the sick, and all that good stuff. Miracles? Ah, well, they were reported by his fans, misguided folk that they were. Still and all, Jesus (if he existed) was, all in all, a nice guy. A humanist.

One problem with this. Jesus claimed to be God. (And God is Divine.)

"Abraham your father rejoiced to see my day; he saw it and was glad.” So the Jews said to him, “You are not yet fifty years old and you have seen Abraham?” Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you, before Abraham came to be, I AM.”

So. Jesus was (is):

A.) A liarB.) InsaneC.) God

There is no other explanation for His (His!) extraordinary statement.

In today's sermon, the priest suggested something I believe to be well worth contemplating. As we near the days when we remember the utter humiliation, agony, and human misery of Jesus, let us concentrate on the fact that this Man is, was, and ever will be...God.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

As you know, Saint Jude is the patron of seemingly hopeless causes. Prayerful devotions to Saint Jude are, traditionally, made on Thursdays. I don't know why.

I do know something, though. Saint Jude is being abused and has been for a long time.

Here's a good thing.

Saint Jude can be a power ally when we mortals are faced with what we mortals perceive as "hopeless and desperate cases." Nothing is "hopeless or desperate" to God, but the Lord understands that we're not divine and has been good enough to give us a saintly friend to support us when we believe we are in an impossible situation. That's good.

Here's a bad thing.

I don't know about you, but probably once or twice a month, at least, I find a bunch of xeroxed copies of a prayer to Saint Jude in a church. Nothing wrong with that...until one starts to read the "prayer."

It ends with an "instruction" to the praying person. And it's not good.

The language varies, but the gist is always the same. The petitioner is generally instructed to make a novena to Saint Jude using the scripted prayer. That's not bad. What's bad is that, following the novena instruction, the reader is told to make X amount of copies of the prayer, distribute X amount of copies to X amount of churches, and do any number of weird things in addition, from "making a wish" to repeating some mantra X amount of times.

I fully expect, one day, to read that one must also, in order to "receive Saint Jude's attention," do the hokey-pokey and wave around a dead chicken in one's back yard.

Stop with the superstition!

Awhile back, I bemoaned the existence of "chain e-mail letters." This abuse of Saint Jude falls under the same category: idolatry.

If you find yourself in an impossible situtation, by all means, do ask the good Saint for his intercession. But keep it to yourself! And never mind the extraneous nonsense.

If you find a stack of "prayers" to Saint Jude with instructions similar to what I've described above, toss them. Do pray for the misguided person who left them there.

And ask Saint Jude to stop the superstition being perpetuated in his name. Sheesh, it seems like a hopeless cause to me!

Monday, April 03, 2006

(parenthetical comment: this is one reason why I don't post a list of "What I'm Reading Now")

...and one of the bad guys just got away with stealing from the Poor Box of a Catholic church.

It made me remember...

[insert Memory Harp Sound Effect Here]

...when I was a kid. The Poor Box was rather a big deal, especially during Lent, but actually all through the year. We were — I guess "trained" is the right word — not to leave the church without putting some money into the Box. As a little kid, this usually meant dimes and quarters. As I grew older, the expected contribution was in the form of the foldable currency type.

My parish church has a Poor Box...sorta.

It's actually a long, skinny, tubular-shaped affair, with a slit on top that might accommodate a half-dollar, if half-dollars are still even in currency. Nothing about it stands out in any way. In fact, I probably pass by it most of the time without even noticing it. Nobody talks about it. A visitor wouldn't even see it.

Does your parish have a Poor Box?

If so, do you know if it attracts donations? Is it in a prominent place? Is it mentioned in your bulletin, or from the pulpit?